


Play the Note!

by tondr



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Metaphors, Mild Language, One-Sided Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Post Game, Self-Harm, Suicide Notes, Unrequited Love, mixed pre game and game personality?? its weird., venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tondr/pseuds/tondr
Summary: Unending music.I don't particularly hate it,but it's an annoying thing to last forever.





	Play the Note!

A man’s first thought is what society has taught him to feel, his second, how he actually feels.

 

Both thoughts are disgusting.

 

I hate it.

 

I'm so disgusting.

 

~

 

A knock at the door. Two knocks, three knocks turn into five, and five knocks turn into ten. Knocking is an unpleasant sound, the deep wooden sounds ring around in my head while I hide waiting for the pounding to stop. It’s not even too loud but, I feel like tearing apart my skin whenever I hear it. Could they just stop knocking?

 

I'm selfish,

 

a liar.

 

Am I even still a liar?

 

Eleven knocks over weeks turn into months covering thirty knocks. Sometimes voices accompany them, pleasant and unpleasant. Some I feel no remorse for, some that make me scream into my pillow for hours.

 

Why can't I stop scratching ?

 

The hissing pain on my arms feels so good, and I just want to keep destroying.

 

Why can't I go back to my confident self ? The me who presented fearlessly and without doubt. I guess that's one thing Danganronpa fixed, but it seems my old self is much too overpowering.

 

Violins in the distance! Raise an octave higher, please.

 

I'm still Kokichi Ouma! Malicious and deceiving, mysterious and charismatic! Leader of a super secret organization! My friends and colleagues…

 

were all fictional.

 

Fuck you, Danganronpa. Kokichi Ouma and my actual self are all mixed around in my mind and I don't even understand who I am. I don't think I ever understood who I was, Kokichi Ouma or… Me.

 

Percussion grows louder, and I can't tell if the new accompaniment is enjoyable, but it comes without warning.

 

I'd love to go to Iruma-chan’s room and call her a cumslut, but I can't even move out of bed.

 

I'd love to go to Gonta’s room to apologize for my mistakes, to apologize for how terrible I was to him. But, I'm too much of a coward.

 

Will Toujo-chan ever make me tea and a home-cooked meal ever again? I always have to sneak out to get shitty leftover food.

 

The violins bore me,

 

Scratching is getting old.

 

Shall we proceed to the main event? Shoving my fist into my head until I knock myself out with a concussion? Sounds great!

 

The orchestra proceeds to the crescendo! Nice job, Kokichi, you fucking retard.

 

_strike_.

 

Will I ever get to paint with Angie again?

 

_strike_.

 

Will I ever get to play chess with Amami-chan again?

 

_strike_.

 

They're there.

 

The door is there.

 

_strike_.

 

But I can't.

 

“Ahahaha.” My throat hurts from my persistence in not talking for months. My head fucking hurts.

 

The rhythm continues and various pianos sound out, what kind of orchestra uses six pianos?

 

I'll probably break my wrist at this point.

 

I don't care.

 

~

 

Forty knocks turned into fifty, and then turned into none. Huh?

 

The unpleasant noise of wood banging against my ear drums from my “friends.”

 

What a relief.

 

Have they finally realized I'm worthless? All I ever did was hurt them.

 

I don't want them to hate me, but they should. Which is it, Kokichi?

 

At least I can go through with the final masterpiece.

 

~

 

A year after Danganronpa shutting down, and what an anniversary it is. I haven't cut my hair since then, and it has gotten pretty long. I like pulling it out, the more textured strands of hair that stick out against the smooth pieces. Almost like the horse hairs that are sewn Into a bow.

 

“Don't touch the hairs! Oil on your fingers will damage it!” Or something like that, do I care? I like the feeling.

 

I've taken a liking to putting it into a ponytail, some of the hair on the crook of my neck is very textured. I like that feeling.

 

I like the texture of this paper, it's smooth but has pores that my senses just ooze into. I prefer using this specific pen brand, how smooth the ball tip glides over my sheet.

 

Various goodbyes and confessions lace themselves through my writings, how cheesy.

 

Let's be confident this one last time! I have nothing left to lose after all!

 

~

 

Three days later at 3:00AM, on the third of March. Funny how that works, huh? I'm partial to threes, that's why this is perfect.

 

I slide the prepared envelope under an unfamiliar door in an unfamiliar hallway.

 

Well, time to head back to make preparations! Lets see… I could probably use my closet, but I'm not sure if it's high enough… or... A creaking sound, I like sounds like those.

 

But why do I hear it? And why is there a hand around my wrist? It's burning around my skin and I feel disgusting. Don't touch me, please.

 

“O-Ouma-kun?” Came a quiet, hushed voice.

 

Oh! That's who's touching me! Too bad I forgot how to speak, and I'm also shaking. God, why am I like this?

 

Only sad eyes looked at me, I'm guessing he's looking for a response. Yeah, I can't keep eye contact, no matter how pretty those eyes may be.

 

“What's this envelope?”

 

...

**Author's Note:**

> discord: si#1718  
> Instagram: @cowmaeda


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